


The Life Of The Dead Is Placed In The Memory Of The Living.

by ineffablesaltflower



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Boromir still dies I'm sorry, Denethor is still an asshole, Faramir remembers, Gen, Snippets of their childhood, bittersweet memories, just a bunch of memories of the brothers growing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablesaltflower/pseuds/ineffablesaltflower
Summary: The sight of the broken Horn of Gondor brings back a lot of memories. The memories of growing up with a supporting brother and a father who never saw anything but a burden in him. Just a fic about Faramirs memories of their childhood.
Kudos: 6





	The Life Of The Dead Is Placed In The Memory Of The Living.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, it's me again.
> 
> Today with some brotherly love. I apologize for any spelling errors, grammar mistakes or anything else.  
> As we know it, no beta, wie die like Boromir here.
> 
> I also apologize for any mistakes story wise, since I don't know that much about the brothers.
> 
> This was a prompt from a very lovely fellow lotr stan Aurora on Twitter. U know who you are. <3 ily and I hope you like it.
> 
> The prompt:
> 
> Okay so this should be angsty but also soft. Faramir in Ithilien when he is thinking back to when he and Boromir were together before he left for Imladris . I would love a short passage about that. Like some throwbacks to their childhood, them sparring together as young men, them comforting each other because Denethor is mean dad. Boromir supporting and encouraging Faramir etc. Like flashback sequences 😭❤️ With emphasis on the love between them and the good times they actually had together.
> 
> Please enjoy and have a great week.
> 
> xoxo,  
> flower.

> _"And, actually, I was feeling pretty good at the time. My brother was like an individual ray of sunshine that had come crashing into my room to drive out the fragments of Despair. For a few minutes, everything was golden. And everything was okay."_  
>  _— Abbie Emmons (a bit changed since the original was for more than one brother)_

Faramir stared at the broken Horn of Gondor as if it could bring back his brother. Forgotten were the Hobbits or the forest or the upcoming war.

He sat there and stared at it like it could tell him it's secrets and why his brother was gone, from all people.

Why did it have to be his brother? The only part of his family who truly cared for him, the only one who saw him as family.

Sure, they always knew things could go wrong and it would come to this, for one brother to leave the other alone. But Faramir wasn't prepared for that. No, he was not.

He was not yet ready to say goodbye and he was not sure if he'd ever be, though he didn't have any other chance than to accept.

Somehow the thought that Boromir would die before him never occurred to him. His big brother always seemed so invincible that Faramir simply grew up with the imagination of Boromir being always there.

But now that he was gone and now that he was thinking about it again, there was suddenly a flood of memories in his head and he could not concentrate on anything else, least the Hobbits in front of him.

Surely he didn't remember anything from when he was a baby, but Boromir often told him about as soon as their mother allowed him to hold his brother for longer than a few minutes, he used to carry him around to show him everything.

Faramir barely remembered his earliest memory and yet it was one he treasured the most.

He didn't remember what the weather was or if it was winter or summer or maybe even spring. Faramir could barely walk at that time, more stumbling after his brother and trying to keep his balance.

Boromir had grabbed his hand and pulled him to the stables. The boys had the excellent idea of stealing a horse and going for a ride. Also it wasn't much stealing when the horses belonged to the family, right? So technically they decided it was nothing wrong and only normal.

They managed to sneak into the stables, Boromir even managed to get a horse out.  
Faramir didn't really remember but it could've also been just a pony. Since he was only a little child every horse or pony would look enormous to him.

Boromir had his first riding lessons at that age and he was eager to share with his baby brother. But their plan went only so far of Boromir pulling him onto the horse and Faramir only remembered it sprinting off with the boys on its back soon after.

Safe to say his father was not amused that he had to search for his sons when the horse returned alone and by the time the servants had noticed that the boys had ran off.

Perhaps that was the moment Faramir noticed the first time that their father treated them differently. As a little child he could barely process that part, but he remembered his father asking if Boromir was alright and sure he scolded him for running away, but he blamed Faramir for the horse running off. And for their fall, because surely Faramir must've scared the horse since Boromir already had his first riding lessons and therefore would not share a horse like that.

But it wasn't so bad, really. His mother managed to sooth his father's anger for their sons this time. One of the first and perhaps the last time she dared to say something against their father and soon Faramir had even forgotten about it.

How could someone dwell on such when the older brother would give him piggy back rides through the gardens and so they could steal some of the apples there?

He wondered sometimes if their life would've gone differently if his mother hadn't died and left their father behind, even more bitter than before. Though Faramir wasn't sure again if that bitterness had erupted from their mothers death.

Faramir barely remembered anything about their mother, everything he knew was mostly out of Boromirs stories and sprinkled childhood memories that came back to him sometimes.

He remembered she had a nice smile, though it was rare and sometimes she would even play with them. Hide and seek around the house and sometimes she would sing to them, from war and peace and happiness and elves and dwarves.

He remembered after she had died, Boromir had allowed his little brother to sleep with him when he couldn't sleep, but when their father had found out, he soon locked Faramir into his room at night, since he would not raise a son who was afraid of the dark.

( Boromir started to sneak in through the window then, but their father luckily never found out. )

For more he hadn't been old enough to remember and being told about it was not the same as carrying the memory on his own.

The next thing he remembered was his brother receiving his first sword from the Smith, small and yet heavy as a real one. The boys had marveled at it for a whole night until Boromir was finally allowed to use it in his training lessons.

Oh, how badly Faramir wanted one on his own, but his father always brushed him off, telling him how he was way too young for a real sword.

So Boromir also secretly kept his wooden sword because then the brothers could continue their little fights. As if he wished for his brother not to be left out. Though of course Faramir always tried picking up the big real sword and Boromir let him. 

Faramir remembered well that day Boromir grew out his first sword and gifted it to his little brother, since their father had not yet seen any reason to give his youngest a sword as well.

It was a little too heavy for Faramir but he learned to work with it anyway. If Boromir thought he could do it, then Faramir decided he must. Most of the fighting skills he learned from his brother though.

It was his brother who took care of his scratches and cuts he earned everytime he fell from the horse or when he fought his brother. It was his brother who calmed him after his first scraped knee after he fell chasing Boromir through the gardens, it was Boromir who told him it will be fine again. 

His favorite memory about when they were older, was the ones when they started sparing together for real. Not like their little fights with wooden swords and Boromir comforting when Faramir fell, no these times it was Boromir who made him fall and they both would laugh until they could not hold their swords anymore.

They would lie in the sand, Faramir pushing off his heavier brother and they would both try to catch their breath though everytime they looked at each other, new laughter started to shake their shoulders.

They both surely would never forget that day when Faramir finally defeated Boromir for the first time without his older brother letting him win on purpose. He remembered how proud Boromir was and how he told everyone who wanted or did not want to hear it that it was him who taught his baby brother such.

Unfortunately their father never cared about Faramirs progress. Whenever he would tell proudly of something, his father almost immediately turned to ask Boromir about what he had learned that day.

It wasn't until he reached his age of 13 when he stopped telling his father altogether about it and his father never asked for it again.

For every day his father treated him with ignorance or punished him for whatever he did wrong today, Boromir made up for it. It seemed like he needed to make up for the lack of his fathers feelings.

It was Boromir who was proud of Faramir when he came home from their first hunt with an impressive deer, it was Boromir who made sure his brother was gifted with a proper sword when he was old enough. It was Boromir who hyped him up during riding lessons or fighting lessons throughout all these years. It did not matter how old they were, he could always be sure of his brother being by his side and appreciating his work.

It was Boromir who teased him about his first crush when he was 14, the maid which brought them fresh milk every week with her sweet smile and the flowers in her hair had captured the young boys heart for a whole summer. Surely she would not be suited for their fathers liking, but their father luckily never found out. It was Boromir who hid Faramirs secret when he sneaked out to meet her and kiss her clumsily behind a tree. It was not more than a childish crush and yet Boromir knew.

He always knew more about Faramir than Denethor did.

Faramir did not know why he never stopped searching for his father's gratitude and perhaps he will never know. Perhaps it was the wish to be like his big brother, to be a hero like him as well.

Even when a childish brain had no actual sense of what it meant to be a hero. Boromir was already a hero for him because he would eat the cabbage without complaining.

He remembered all too well the dark days when his father would lock him in his room again, because in his eyes Faramir hadn't given his best again or did something wrong, whatever it may be. Sometimes the boy didn't even know.

Boromir would never leave him alone, he would always find a way to sneak in with the best desserts to share them with Faramir.

Sometimes his father got so angry when the boys had done some mischief again, that Boromir would shove his baby brother behind his back, because surely his father's wrath would never be enough to hurt Boromir.

They had learned that pretty soon. And while Boromir never knew why his father would prefer him, he had always used it to his advantage.

Never did he allow for Faramir to feel invalidated or anything else, no matter what their father had said. Sometimes it seemed like his father didn't take notice of the youngest at all and maybe he didn't.

Faramir remembered trying on Boromirs first armour, like the boys would wheeze of laughter because it was so big. Only a summer later did Faramir grow a good amount to match him, just in time when he was given his brothers old armour.

Yes, Boromirs stuff was always a bit too big, a bit too wide and yet Faramir always loved it, no matter how old they were. Sure, he would've liked his own but he had accepted soon that his father would never allow it or care about it.

It did not matter if it was the old wooden sword or the metallic one, if it was Boromirs favorite tunic or his armour. He always shared with his brother without complaining.

One of his favorite memories was also that time when Boromir was around 16 already and they both sneaked into the stables again late at night to take their horses. He remembered the stable boy trying to stop them while they were already half out of the door, riding the horses bareback. He remembered almost falling again, how Boromir would slow to catch him and help him up again, he remembered his brothers laugh as he told him to hold onto.

And he remembered how Boromir would ask "How many times do I have to catch my little brother from a horse? Might just as well ride with you into battle in the future, for who is going to stop you from falling? The squire? I don't think so." Faramir threw a twig after his brother since that was the only thing he could reach in his current position from the trees. His brother laughed and ducked away, simply riding a bit faster.

Those nightly adventures were soon being reported to their father and once again he blamed it on Faramir and his bad influence.

Faramir could not remember how many times Boromir tried to defend him in front of their father, the older they got the more it happened.

Sometimes he wished they didn't have to grow up, war didn't have to happen. Perhaps Boromir would be still here then.

He wished they could have forever fought with wooden swords against each other.

Sometimes when he held his sword, he heard Boromirs words in his head to hold it correctly. Faramir used to hold it a slightly off way when he was little and though he had laid it off now that he was older, he still remembered it.

Boromir would never give him the feeling that they did not belong to the same family, even if sometimes he had the feeling his father would rather only have one son to care for. It surely was like that. In his father's eyes he never counted. But that was alright, because he didn't need it. He didn't need his father to be proud of him or to teach him anything.

That's what he had Boromir for.

Though he wanted. He wished so desperately for his father to see him the way he saw Boromir. To see that he became at least as good as him. Maybe not better, no, but Boromir taught him well. He made sure Faramir was a good warrior.

The upcoming threat in middle earth always sort of shadowed their childhood, first in his mothers death and then their father being this bitter man. But he wouldn't change it, not really.

For he got to spend the best years with his brothers and he would not want to give up anything about it. Would not want to miss a single small memory of it.

Not even their last, when once again Boromir tried to earn their fathers respect for Faramir. He would not give up until the last moment and he believed that one day Faramir would make their father just ad proud. He believed it so much until even Faramir believed it. A childs dream, not those of a grown man. But sometimes he could not help, for he still wished for this childhood wish to become true.

Even then, in that last moments before Boromir left for Rivendell. They could have had such a nice celebrations and yet their father had to ruin everything. Even then Faramir still hoped that his father would finally appreciate them both only to have his foolish hopes to be shattered within moments.

Once again it was only Boromir who saw the potential in him, the skills and knowledges.

Maybe it would stay like that forever, though now Boromir was gone.

Faramir felt something break in him, for those two little boys who really only had each other, for himself to keep going without his big brother, his supporter, the one he always looked up to. And for his brother, who only ever wanted for his father to be proud of him and his baby brother.

He would keep those memories close to his heart, for his brother. Would keep them in mind during battle. But it would not be the same. No, it would not.

The sun would always be a tad too dark, the sky a bit too grey, the grass just not enough green, for middle earth had lost such a great warrior. For he had lost his big brother, someone who was once his whole world until he discovered that there was more.

Faramir would keep his brothers legacy as much as he could, as best as he could. Oh, if only they would have known that the last time they saw each other would be the last time forever. But maybe they knew. Maybe they knew all along that it would be war which would take them apart. But he had hoped, of course he had hoped that Boromir would return.

But losing a brother was — like losing a part of yourself. And maybe it was like that. Maybe you were two sides of the same coin, and when one was gone, the other part would never be the same again.

> _"Not only had my brother disappeared, but — and bear with me here — a part of my very being had gone with him. Stories about us could, from then on, be told from only one perspective. Memories could be told but not shared."_
> 
> _— John Corey Whaley._

**Author's Note:**

> Once again I thank you all for your wonderful support and all the nice words, comments and kudos you leave. Thank u. xx
> 
> As always you can talk on Twitter to me or send me any prompts: @HaldirsLoth.


End file.
